For Mrs. Zastrow

She stood in front of the class,
(Honors English, senior year),
Shoulder length hair
black and shining
like raven wings.

I received back my essay,
staring in silent disbelief
at her red ink covering my blue.
I gathered my books,
blinking back tears of rage;
hating her youth
her poise
her raven black hair.

I went to her classroom;
the harmonious years of easy As
replaced with the discord of a D.
I coughed and sputtered.
We sat.
She wrote.

I finished the year in triumph.
I practiced the power of The Preludes;
The picture painting power of words.
I did not fail,
I earned my proudest A.

At 49, she was gone,
leaving her sparkle,
her raven feathered life,

Prompts: Poetic Bloomings continued with its memoir series of prompts asking us to write about an influential person (other than family) in our life.  I also used the Vice Versa words for this week.


4 thoughts on “For Mrs. Zastrow

  1. Makes me wonder what happened to her at 49. I’ll never forget a college professor I had who was battling breast cancer at the time. She passed away the following semester.

  2. Our teachers have had a lot of impact on us. The first contact of authority in the formative years they are adored or hated.
    At 49, it was a young age! Very nice write Annette and thanks!


  3. Wow, sometimes teachers don’t realize what impact they have on young minds….nor how to encourage rather than discourage. I used to be a teacher. There is a fine line My heart goes out to you, as I know this still lives with you. Thanks for taking part in Vice Versa!

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